After leaving two separate notes on my truck’s windshield and sending one (ignored) friend request on Facebook, Brother Lloyd finally managed to catch up with me. I knew it would happen eventually. Our town was small, and if you really wanted to corner someone, you could track them down pretty easily.
I was running errands for my mom on a Saturday afternoon. I’d popped into the drugstore, which was right down the street from Virgil County Baptist. My guess is that Brother Lloyd saw me drive by from one of the church’s windows and hurried down the street to wait for me. Or maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe he really did just happen to be right outside the drugstore when I walked out with a plastic bag full of tampons and Mom’s favorite cheap makeup products.
“Leanne,” he said, beaming brightly at me. Brother Lloyd is a short, slim man with blond hair and a receding hairline. What he lacks in hair, though, he makes up for in attire. Or at least he did that day. He was wearing a nice baby-blue button-down with a striped tie and black slacks. In a town where putting on a clean pair of unripped jeans is considered dressing up, this was verging on too fancy. “It’s so nice to run into you.”
“Hi, Brother Lloyd,” I said, moving past him toward my truck.
He followed me, of course. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Yeah. I got the notes you left.” My keys were in my hand now, and I was trying to figure out how difficult it would be to extract myself without coming across as rude.
“Good, good. Glad you saw them. I was beginning to wonder when I hadn’t heard from you, but I’m sure you’re busy with school and all that.” His smile slipped into something more determined then, and he cleared his throat. “Listen, Leanne, the McHales came and spoke to me.”
I unlocked the driver-side door and pulled it open, not making eye contact with Brother Lloyd as I tossed the plastic shopping bag onto the other seat. “That’s kind of what I figured.”
“They’re worried about you,” he said. “And I must say, I am, too. Some of the things you’ve been saying lately … well, they have me concerned.”
“Concerned,” I repeated as I hoisted myself into the truck.
The preacher moved quickly, positioning himself in front of the door so that I couldn’t shut it. He was smiling, though, an expression of forced kindness. As if that was somehow going to make me feel less uneasy about this situation.
“Yes, concerned,” he said. “It just doesn’t seem like you’ve been yourself lately.”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “you barely know me.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “But I knew Sarah very well.”
I gritted my teeth. I hated when other people tried to tell me how well they knew Sarah. They didn’t. No one knew her like I did. They knew an idea they’d built up in their heads. A caricature of a pious girl devoid of flaws. Brother Lloyd may have seen Sarah’s face every Sunday at church. He may have been the one to baptize her. But she didn’t share the things with him that she shared with me. I remember the eulogy he gave at her funeral, the way he’d described her. He didn’t know her very well.
I wasn’t even sure he truly believed he had.
“The stories you’ve been telling about her lately,” he continued, “I know you wouldn’t be making up these kinds of things about her if something wasn’t going on with you. So instead of lying about Sarah, why don’t you talk to me about what’s really wrong?”
“I’m not lying about Sarah,” I said. “I told her parents the truth.”
“Come on, Leanne,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “We both know better than that.”
“Brother Lloyd, I should be going.”
He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. “Sarah McHale is a hero to a lot of people, you know. Not just around here, but all over the country. She’s inspired a lot of teenagers to recommit to their faith. There’s even a Christian rock song about her. I think it’s called ‘Her Cross Necklace.’ Have you heard it?”
My fists were clenched around the steering wheel. “Yes.”
“Nice song, huh? Not really my genre. I still mostly listen to gospel because I’m not as cool as you young folks but …” He shrugged. “Anyway. Her story means a lot to people. You know that. Why would you try to take that away from them? From Sarah?”
“Because it wasn’t her necklace,” I said. “And she didn’t say anything to—”
Brother Lloyd waved a hand to silence me. “Calm down. Calm down. I know you’ve been through a lot, Leanne, but that’s no reason to lash out at others. And especially no reason to say these things about Sarah, who isn’t here to defend herself.”
“I need to go,” I said, more firmly this time.
“All right,” he said. “But before you do, please hear me out. I’m not trying to bother you. I mean it when I say I’m just concerned. If word gets out that you’re saying these things … people aren’t going to take too kindly to it.”
“You mean if you and the McHales tell anyone I’m saying these things.”
“Well, I don’t see why we ever have to speak of it again if I have your word it won’t be going any further. If you don’t plan on telling these lies to anyone else, then—”
“They aren’t lies. And I won’t promise that. I want people to know the truth.”
Brother Lloyd sighed and bowed his head. “I’m sorry to hear you feel that way. I hope you change your mind, but in the meantime, my congregation will be praying for you.”
And as I drove away a minute later, headed back down the street and past his church, I couldn’t help but think about how much that last sentence had sounded like a threat.